


In the Eyes of the Gods (And T’Challa)

by zealous_whispers_of_us



Series: Not Your Omega [11]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha Bucky Barnes, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, F/M, Fluff, Kinda, Mating Rituals, Omega Reader, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-29 02:11:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18298145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zealous_whispers_of_us/pseuds/zealous_whispers_of_us
Summary: Call it what you may -'ritualistic mating'- or whatever, but the real truth is that wolves are nothing more than a bunch of voyeuristic perverts.





	In the Eyes of the Gods (And T’Challa)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I have returned. It has been... you know. An overall mess. Life. Anyway, here is werewolf!Bucky and his vampire love ritualistically mating in front of a bunch of wolves :) Also, I added in some mythology stuff because I was feeling it.

As the moon grows, she wakes to hear a chorus of howls. One howl, in particular, has her rising from her bed and floating to the window. Her hands shake as she peers out of the glass and into the dark night. A pack of wolves stands at the edge of the forest, and they all stare at her. The largest one, the one she knows, steps forward and seems to smile.

_“’Mega,”_ Bucky says dreamily through their bond.

She slips out of her shoes and pushes open the window. Once the gap is wide enough, she springs, landing silently on her feet onto the grass below. Dew tickles her bare toes as she makes her way over to her wolf. She takes a deep, shuddering breath, suddenly filled with nerves, and tries to ignore the wolf packs behind Bucky. Once she makes it to his side, he places his nose comfortingly on her thigh. She puts a trembling hand on his nose, and he whines, licking her kneecap.

_“Calm,”_ he reminds.

“I’m trying,” she whispers, irritated.

_“Ready?”_

She nods wordlessly, and Bucky takes the first step, waiting until she follows.

Together, they walk the rest of the way to the forest’s edge and to where the circle of wolves is waiting. Her fingers tremble. Her unneeded breath is coming out quicker. She feels feverish. Bucky’s sharp gaze cuts through her and, (probably) breaking tradition, nudges her hand with his head. Understanding his meaning, she places her palm on his fuzzy head. His eyes glitter auburn in the moonlight, and he winks.

_“Me,”_ he tells her.

Just him. All she has to do is follow him.

They reach the line of wolves and Bucky tilts his head back and lets out a long howl. The other wolves join in after him. She has the strangest need to tip her own head back and join in but quells the urge. The moon seems to glow a little brighter as the two wolves in the very center of the line, T’Challa and Steve, separate just enough for Bucky and his omega to walk through. Once they are a few paces ahead, the wolves follow behind them in a solemn processional.

It is a slow pace, one that she is unaccustomed to. Whenever she is in these woods, she runs and hunts, and the desire to do just that skitters under her skin; an alive thing that makes her feel like she is going insane. Tradition dictates that this walk be a ceremonial one; too slow for her liking. Her fingers dig into Bucky’s head briefly as her nerves get the better of her. She feels as though she is going to screw something up and then all of the wolf traditions and ancestors of old will rise up to gut her. She knows her and Bucky’s union is incredibly rare. She doesn’t want the Earth and the Gods to be so angry that they separate the two of them. She wants to do this right, damn it!

She huffs to herself, breaking the necessary silence, and then feels embarrassed.

_“Calm,”_ Bucky says again.

She doesn’t respond. Instead, she grips the horn charm around her neck. It soothes her.

He’d gifted it to her a year after they were married. His cheeks had reddened as he explained that it was the symbol of Horz, the Slavic God of the Moon. His ancestors were Slavs. He still looked up to the ancient Pagan God of Old, just as every other pack leader looked up to their own ancestral Pagan Moon God. She’d accepted the necklace with a glowing smile, happy to share this piece of him. He didn’t stop smiling for a week, and she hasn’t taken it off since.

_“’Mega,”_ Bucky says, nudging her knee.

She tears away from her thoughts, trying to return to the present situation. They’ve stopped in the center of a grouping of ash trees. She gazes at them, wide-eyed. Bucky nudges her again, and she moves to sit under the largest one. She hears the shift of the wind against many bodies and knows that the rest of the wolves have caught up. She sees their eyes glint in the dark even though they are far away. She ponders her life choices.

Bucky lets out a huff of quiet distress that only she can hear as he focuses on the painful shift from beast to man. Her hands twitch, wanting nothing more than to reach out and soothe Bucky. If she did that though, the wolves around them would decide that Bucky was too weak to be their leader. When in their wolf forms, even rational and kind men like Steve Rogers relinquish control to their animalistic side. If they saw an omega comforting an alpha pack leader, their hindbrains would tell them that Bucky was weak and there would almost certainly be a mutiny for new leadership.

She doesn't want that. She fights herself and doesn't touch. 

Finally (agonizingly), Bucky is back as he should be. He lifts his head, they lock eyes, and she shivers at the primal hunger she sees in him. He licks his lips hungrily and then curls them upwards into a smirk. His excitement is a tangible thing between them, slowing time, stretching like taffy, and making every one of her senses go haywire. Bucky prowls closer. She feels her breath catch as she watches him; all muscled grace and raw power.

His hands catch her around her waist, and she falls to where he can catch her.

“Hi baby,” Bucky says, nipping her ear greedily.

“Hi,” she answers.

Her voice quivers. She bites her lip in shame.

“’S all right,” Bucky murmurs. “’S jus’ you an’ me. Jus’ look at me, sweet girl.”

“I’m scared,” she admits softly.

“I know, honey. You got nothin’ a’ worry about. My ancestors ain’t gonna get angry if you miss a step,” Bucky reassures, nuzzling her close to him.

She buries her face in his neck, trying to ground herself in his warmth and his scent. Bucky starts to purr, and he grips her tighter until, gradually, she begins to relax, and the trembling of her body slows.

“There she is,” says Bucky admiringly. “My beautiful omega.”

A wolf howls (Steve, she thinks it is) and it breaks the gentle calm that they had created. The sound slams her back into the current situation, and she is overwhelmed with nerves again. The weight of what is about to happen is not missed on her. Bucky has told her many times in the last few weeks how important this ceremony is to wolves.

Bucky yips back at the wolf, and then kisses her forehead sweetly.

“You ready?” he asks.

She nods, shaky.

“It’ll be okay. It’s jus’ you an’ me, darlin’. Jus’ gotta look at me, okay? I promise I'll take care a' ya.”

She nods again, unable to find her voice. Bucky curls a comforting hand around her neck and presses his lips to hers, his chest still vibrating with purrs to relax her. She kisses him back, unsure of how much she is able to respond. Bucky answers that by opening her mouth and coaxing her fangs to slip free. Oh. It is going to be like that. Good. She can do that. She hums, suddenly thrilled, and does the same to him. They break apart for him to breathe and giggle at each other, flashing their matching vampire fangs.

As they giggle, Bucky lets his hands wander to the bottom of her long nightshirt. He fingers the hem, looking at her questioningly, and she nods in assent. His fingers slip underneath her shirt eagerly.

“Tell me again?” she whispers as Bucky slides her shirt off of her body.

He hums softly, pressing his lips to her jaw. She twines her fingers through his hair, mussed and gnarled, and Bucky shudders as she tugs on the russet strands. He shifts and lowers them carefully down onto the grass.

“I was born as an alpha under th’ Crow’s Moon,” he murmurs, his kisses trailing to her neck, “’A Child of Horz,’ my ma used to call me. I was destined to be a pack leader.”

“Mhm.”

“’S a ceremonial matin’ in front of my pack and T’Challa’s. Sam is his omega, but Sam is part of my pack, which is why T’Challa’s pack has to be here too. Pack membership and territory overlap. If they weren't here, according to wolf tradition, T'Challa could fight me for leadership of my pack too. If he won, it'd be all over,” Bucky presses his scent into her neck, nuzzling her bond mark, before moving his lips to her collarbones.

“We don't want that,” she says, arching her back and sighing when Bucky nips at her just right. "But go on."

“We mate beneath th’ light of th’ full moon that I was born under. 'S when I'm th' most powerful. After it's done, every wolf in every corner of th’ world will know that you are mine. An' they won’t dare challenge me for my land. Especially not T'Challa. 'S a reclaiming of my omega as much as it is of my pack an' territory.”

"Wolves are ridiculous, I swear," she says.

Bucky lifts his head from her skin, now littered with marks from his teeth, and smiles devilishly.

“Yeah, we are. But in th’ eyes of everyone who gave us shit when we first got together, now, we are _real_. I’d call ya a wolf, but I know you wouldn’t appreciate that much, huh?”

“Just remember who became who first,” she teases.

“Always,” says Bucky simply, his eyes kind.

Her scent is turning cinnamon sweet under Bucky’s gentleness and coaxing, and he angles down to kiss her again. She runs her nails down the sides of Bucky’s neck, and his tongue flicks out, licks her lips, then sneaks into her mouth. He runs his tongue along her fangs playfully. She sucks on his tongue in retaliation. They both smile against the other’s mouth as they find being serious more difficult than they anticipated. Bucky thinks the Gods won’t mind.

He shifts, grabbing his omega’s leg and hitching it around his waist. She does the same with the other before trailing her hands downwards to Bucky’s chest. She digs her nails into his pecs, making him whine into her mouth. He whines louder when she does it again, and his hand sneaks between them. He scrapes his nails down her tummy until he finds his prize. He sees her already slick, and he hums, pleased as punch. She lets out a soft sigh when Bucky slips a warm finger inside her, curling and moving and brushing just right.

His thumb presses her clit. His other hand plays with her breast. His mouth sucks on a nipple.

She moans his name and Bucky grins again. Warmth is spreading from her stomach, and she hears Bucky's heart beating wildly in his chest as his skin becomes flush with desire. His gaze is dark and heavy as he watches her squirm underneath his fingers. She meets his eyes and Bucky's grin is menacing and promising all at once. She feels how hard and wanting he is when he shifts against her, and it makes her lips curl up into a smirk. She feels the damp streak that he leaves on her skin. 

"What?" Bucky asks.

"You want it bad, huh?" she says.

His eyes narrow and he thumbs at her clit. Her mouth goes slack, and she moans his name, throwing a few curses in for good measure.

"Not as much as you apparently," Bucky gloats, triumphant.

"Asshole."

"Mm, that's me, baby."

A wolf howls. The mood shifts again.

“You’re mine?” Bucky asks suddenly.

“Of course, Buck,” she whispers.

He slides his finger free, and she makes a pouting face. Chuckling silently, Bucky clambers to his knees and gestures for her. She steps over and sits on top of him with her back plastered to his front. With a concentration that she has never before seen, Bucky eases himself inside her. His lips sucker themselves to her neck, and she tilts her head back as the sensation of him finally inside her makes her wild. Eyes glazed and unseeing, she looks up at the moon.

Bucky moves slowly inside her, letting her feel all of him. She pushes herself too, grinding down hard, and Bucky groans so low in his chest that she feels it against her back. She grabs the hand he’d placed on her breast and holds tightly onto his fingers as he builds momentum. Still, he goes slowly, but he’s in so deep and crooked so right that she doesn’t feel the need to complain.

“I love you,” he tells her desperately, his mouth still firmly attached to her neck. “You gotta know tha’. Gods, I love ya so much. You own me, body an’ soul. You’re everythin’ I ever wanted in an omega.”

“I love you too Bucky,” she says, just as desperately. “I love you so, _so_ much, my sweet boy. I can’t wait to spend the rest of eternity with you.”

“Ooh,” Bucky moans. “Fuck, ya got me so close already. Damn this full moon.”

She moans with him, thrilled.

“Come for me, Buck. I want your knot. Show all these crazy prying eyes how pretty you look.”

“Show ‘em how pretty _you_ look when you’re all knotted and happy,” Bucky moans again, his pace quickening and his finger back between her legs. “You there for me? C’mon, sugar. _Please_ come with me.”

"Oh, James," she sighs.

"You're breathtakin'," he murmurs in her ear, like it is a secret. "Jus' look at ya, my pretty omega. You're like a dream come to life. _My_ dream come to life."

Her climax rushes through her quickly after that. She bites her lip to keep from crying out, but a few moans of his name escape and Bucky growls in response. His hand drops to her thigh, and he grips her tight, his hips fumbling. He comes too then, filling the woods with his howls of pleasure, drunk on his omega. His knot blows, locking them together, and he sinks his teeth into her neck. She comes a second time with a surprised noise and then a whimper. Bucky licks her neck where he bit her and waits for her body to stop trembling.

“Buck?” she asks quietly, once she has returned to him.

“It’s all good,” he tells her. “We’re true mates in the eyes of th’ Gods and T’Challa.”

“Damn pack leaders.”

A chorus of howls pop their little moment of bliss, and she raises both of her middle fingers high up in the air. Bucky snickers into her neck, sucking another mark there.

“I ain’t ever gonna hear th’ end of that. What have ya done?”

“Wolves are damn voyeuristic perverts,” she replies. “Do they even have to stay here?”

“Naw, they c’n leave. In fact, they should leave. Ritual matin’ is for everyone, ‘cept they don’t gotta do it in front a’ others,” Bucky reminds. “Hold on.”

He tips his head back and howls in a way that she has never heard before. She can actually hear the tone of it, as though the howl is telling the other wolves to _go away!_

“Voyeuristic perverts,” she repeats to herself.

Bucky quits howling, and yes, she watches as the dark, hulking masses of wolves turn tail and move away from them.

“What did you say?”

“Told ‘em to back th’ fuck off,” he explains. “You okay in this position?”

“Yes,” she sighs, laying her head on Bucky’s shoulder and stretching her arms languorously. “It’s great.”

“‘M so fuckin’ lucky. Y’feel so nice,” he says, nuzzling her. “So warm, an' it's all for me.  I wanna stay inside ya forever.”

“Yeah?” she asks, nuzzling back. “I’d like that.”

“You would? Well, how's about once my knot goes down, we go back home an' do it all again? And then I'll bring ya breakfast in bed. We c'n shower together, maybe watch a movie, you could sit on my face for a while, we could take a drive, we could have sex in th' car, we could have sex on th' kitchen table, maybe again in th' shower..." 

"All right, all right! I pick 'D'," she says.

"D?" Bucky repeats, confused.

She smiles friskily. "All of the above."


End file.
